Why The WhipPoorWill Sings
by Taomerline Fanfiction
Summary: Reid gets a call from his Mom's doctor. As each day passes, life drifts further away from Diana, but the gods have seen fit to grant her true clarity during her final 9 days of life. Reid's world expands then slowly deflates.
1. Chapter 1

Why The Whip-poor-will Sings – Chapter 1

_**A/N: This first chapter is short, but necessary, following chapters will be longer; I promise! Enjoy …**_

_***** Disclaimer – I do not own any part of Criminal Minds. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and to improve my writing skills. *****_

**The end of the day before it began … **

During his early years of residency, he had learned why he shouldn't become attached to patients; and that they were patients, never people. After 30 years of practice, he had done fairly well; there had been only a handful of patients, for whom he had broken his number one rule. He had succeeded in convincing himself that he wasn't emotionally attached to them; he considered those few patients (not people) to be nothing more than a source of personalized medical references; information always at the ready, in case it could be useful in treating a current patient; that's all it was, nothing more.

During the course of his long career, he had met and successfully treated thousands of patients. He never regretted his decision: choosing psychology over medical. Never being one who dealt well with blood and guts, he found it easier handling minds instead of bodies. To him, the challenges of the mind were vastly greater than the sum of ills that the body could produce; and the death toll was much lower.

He could never understand how medical doctors managed their high death tolls, how could they bear those burdens and keep functioning. He had only experienced those few deaths, spread across a 30-year span; he was very grateful for his lack of experience in those kinds of matters. Each of those deaths had occurred early in his career, as well as occurring early in his treatment of those patients. He continued to take great solace in the knowledge that others had failed them, not him.

The beauty and the curse of scales were their insistence on leveling themselves, one way or the other. He wasn't surprised when that song popped into his head, "You take the good. You take the bad. You mix them up, and then you have the facts of life; the facts of life." It was things like that which kept him forever enthralled with the mind, and the worlds of psychology, psychiatry, sociology, anthropology; and last but not least, philosophy. He doubted if Socrates could have said it any better than that song "The Facts of Life".

Most people would be amazed by the various types of things that kept him entertained; not to mention, how crucial those things had been in maintaining his own sanity. "Out of the mouths of babes" still held true, when so-called foolish jingles could state age-old concepts in such clarity; yet most people still didn't get it. They were hopeless, and he would always find patients amongst them. He did not consider his patients to be fools, on the contrary, he thought of them as survivors clinging to floats … slowly sinking, while the fools frolicked away their lives.

He knew that he could not postpone it any further; he had run out of options; he had no choice. He could not (and would not) make one of the nurses place the call for him; She deserved much more dignity than that. The time differential didn't matter. He took a few calming breaths, trying to find his professional voice. It was useless. Snatching up his phone, he punched in the numbers and waited.

As the jet flew back to Quantico, the team's mood livened. They were always glad to return home, after a successful case. It had been bad (of course), but they'd seen so much worse; they were always grateful for the quick and easy cases. As usual, they were in their usual order: Hotch at the furthest end of the jet, Rossi in the middle, and the younger agents pooled together chatting and playing cards. After extremely bad cases, Rossi usually sat with Hotch and wordlessly they encouraged each other not to lose faith; and the younger agents talked out their doubts and grievances with the wrongs of the world, and the _oh-so-many_ injustices.

Tonight's flight home was a good time for the team. Outsiders would never understand how they could joke and laugh after being first-hand witnesses to such horrors. This ability was what kept them on this side of sanity; it was what kept them from burning out … as Gideon had burnt. A year had passed since he had left the BAU. Every day, thoughts of Gideon were always in their minds; and memories of him filled those enormous holes in their hearts. Yet, they never talked about him anymore; it was best to keep some self-insecurities to oneself.

As they left the jet and headed towards the SUVs, Morgan threw his muscled arm across Reid's shoulder, "You feel like hanging out with us tonight?"

"No, I'm really exhausted. I didn't get much sleep last night. I just want to go home and go to bed."

"That's what I intend to do once I find me a honey," Morgan snickered. The team laughed, except for Garcia and Reid; both were frowning for different reasons.

"I'm taking Reid's advice (for once) and heading home," Rossi interjected. Surprisingly, he managed to hang out a lot with the younger agents; Rossi was rather pleased with himself for knowing when to say "no" to partying; his body was no longer as young as his mind.

"That goes for me, too! Reid! Come on, I'll give you a ride home," said Hotch, as he quickened his pace towards the first SUV. He would never (ever) admit to the team how much he always liked driving the first SUV; he knew it was childish, and that was why he never said anything. As they climbed into the vehicles, the team hollered out their goodbyes to each other as Hotch and Reid took the first SUV, Rossi took the second one, and Morgan drove the third SUV (with the ladies!).

During the past year, Hotch had somehow managed to half take on a semi-quasi mentor role regarding Reid. Neither of them had ever discussed it, it just seemed to have formed itself between them. They were both fine with that. There was no pretending that Hotch had replaced Gideon; he was just a part-time surrogate mentor. This role allowed Reid and Hotch to talk freely with each other. It also allowed them to enjoy non-awkward silences. They both needed and enjoyed the quiet, neither one turned on the stereo.

Reid's phone ringing startled both of them, and they laughed at each other while Reid answered his phone. Because it was late, they both automatically assumed that it was Morgan (or the girls) calling to beg Reid to join them. That's why he answered his phone and chuckled, "No! I'm not coming. I'm tired and I'm going to bed, alone!" Reid was still chucking for a few seconds until he realized that no one had replied on the other end of the call.

"Guys?" Reid asked, frowning at Hotch; who did likewise.

"Dr. Reid?"

Reid's frown quickly changed into a grimace. He recognized the voice. He knew it was his Mom's doctor. He knew it meant trouble; to which degree, he was already dreading. His whole demeanor plummeted as he replied, "Yes, Doctor. It's me."

_**A/N: Again, sorry this is such a short chapter. Some might call it a prologue, but I'm calling it a short chapter. The next chapters will be longer. I hope you've enjoyed it. Feel free to let me know what you think. Take Care. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Why the Whip-poor-will Sings – Chapter 2

_**A/N: Because of its nocturnal habits, the Whip-poor-will is infrequently seen. It is well hidden during the day due to its cryptic **__**coloring**__**; However, its loud calling at dusk makes it well known wherever it breeds.**_

_***** Disclaimer – I do not own any part of Criminal Minds. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and to improve my writing skills. *****_

Reid's frown quickly changed into a grimace. He recognized the voice. He knew it was his Mom's doctor. He knew it meant trouble; to which degree, he was already dreading. His whole demeanor plummeted as he replied, "Yes, Doctor. It's me."

Hotch didn't have to ask, or wonder to whom Reid was speaking. He didn't have to keep looking away from the road in order to see Reid's facial expression. He'd been down this sad tragic road before. Even though Gideon had been Reid's confidant the last time, Gideon had kept Hotch fully aware of the entire drama that had engulfed Reid's every moment; That was three years ago.

_Déjà __vu really sucks!_ Hotch thought, as he recalled that last time … Hotch had been passing through the bullpen when Reid's phone rang. Reid had been laughing with Morgan when he'd answered his phone thinking it was one of the team. Reid had never really stood up with perfect posture (always trying to fade into the background), but when he listened to the caller, it seemed as if his life force had left him. Within seconds, Reid's stature had crumpled. Reid had greeted his caller with the same words he'd just said, "Yes, Doctor. It's me."

Everyone on the team knew that Reid didn't like discussing his mother's health, or his constant worries about possibly having inherited schizophrenia. Gideon had tried numerous times to get Reid to open up more to his teammates; but Reid just couldn't ever seem to reach that level of confidence with anyone except Gideon. It never mattered how many times the team told Reid how much they liked him, loved him, and would risk their lives for him (which they had all done more than once) … It never mattered because Reid never felt completely safe with anyone other than his mom.

At first, the team had thought it was odd, how much Reid loved, cared, and lived for his mom. That was before they had learned the snippets of his life that had revealed themselves over the years. Sometimes when Reid wasn't around, Gideon would gather the team and share pieces of Reid's personal history. He never told them too much; just enough for them to paint the rest of the tapestry. Being profilers, they had always thought that they had figured out everything; that they knew all there was to know about Reid. To this day (after all these years), not a month goes by where they don't find out something else about this beautiful young man. That's what Gideon always referred to Reid as, "a beautiful young man, all alone in the world … having felt only a mother's love."

The first time Gideon had referred to Reid in those exact words, Morgan had said, "Reid has never figured out why I call him, 'Pretty Boy'; he gets so embarrassed because he thinks I'm hitting on him," Morgan chuckled sadly … "I can't bring myself to tell him why. He'd feel so upset if he knew that's how we think of him. He'd think we were pitying him."

At first, JJ and Garcia didn't agree with Morgan's presumption of Reid's reactions; again, Gideon set all of them straight. Morgan was pleased that for once Gideon seemed to agree with him completely. During those conversations, Prentiss never said much of anything; she would nod occasionally, but she never voiced her opinions regarding Reid. Hotch had meant to talk to her about that; find out if there was a problem between Prentiss and Reid; or if she had obtained any additional private information from Reid. That was one more thing that Hotch had never gotten around to doing. None of them did. They never got closer to Reid, because he never got closer to them. They accepted the fact that Reid couldn't feel their love for him; but they kept loving him anyway. They were a family, with many personalities, many problems, and many secrets. The team let Reid decide when he'd let them into his life; that was really all they could do.

Hotch had kept his focus on the road (adhering to traffic lanes, stop lights, and pedestrians), but his mind had lost track of his destination. He had fallen into those depressing memories of Reid's sad life. Hotch finally found his way back to this current sad moment. Glancing at the dashboard clock, he realized that ten minutes had passed since Reid had answered his phone. Reid was still on the phone with his mom's doctor. There was hardly any conversation on Reid's part, other than a few _yes_'s; and those were few and far between.

Continuing to at least give the impression that he was attempting to allow Reid some privacy (in a car!), Hotch hadn't looked over at Reid. He continued to keep his focus on the road; until he heard that sound. It took all of his strength not to pull over to the curb; and either run away from Reid … or to hold and comfort him. That shuddered intake of breath (so small a sound) symbolized so very much at the same time. The huge difference between that last time (three years ago) and tonight was clearly evident, as soon as Hotch finally took a quick glance at Reid. Sure, at one time, or the other, each member of the team had broken down; over one thing or another. It was not a sign of weakness; those kinds of tears are a sign of tremendous sorrow and grief.

Briefly (very briefly) Hotch closed his eyes and refocused on the road. His mind kept replaying the view of Reid crumpled into his seat, head back, eyes closed (gently, not squeezed), and a constant flow of tears seeping out of both eyes; still saying nothing more than the occasional _yes_.

Hotch shook his head trying to clear out the memory, and trying to pull his own heart together. He so wished that Gideon was reachable; but he wasn't, they hadn't heard from him in over a year. Hotch pressed his lips together and slowed his breathing; he didn't want Reid to see him break-down. There would be time for that later, hopefully; but when? How long would he be able to hide it from Reid?

Opening his eyes wide (hoping to prevent tears from building), Hotch suddenly realized where they were; they were driving down his street. He was supposed to drop Reid off first. Well, sometimes things happen for a reason; that's what Garcia always says. This is definitely one of those times. There was no way he could bring himself to drop Reid off and to leave him all alone in his apartment; not tonight. Gideon would have his soul if Hotch didn't take care of Reid.

Again, he glanced over at Reid; same position, same tears, same quiet and shuddered _yes_'s. Hotch pulled the SUV into his driveway, turned off the engine, and just sat there quietly with his eyes closed … thinking of what lay ahead.

Hotch could not prevent his head from turning and looking directly at Reid. Reid had sat up in his seat, had wiped away most of his tears, had opened his eyes, and looked out the windshield. He didn't look at Hotch, but he could tell that Hotch was watching him (he didn't know for how long Hotch had been watching, and he didn't care). As soon as Reid had heard the tone in the doctor's voice, he had wanted to rush to Las Vegas right then and there; but he knew that he shouldn't, or was it that he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Reid wished that he could call Gideon; he needed to hear his voice, and his words of wisdom and understanding. He felt as if he had lost his mind. The doctor kept talking, endless amounts of details, endless amounts of sympathetic condolences. Reid could hardly speak; all he could manage was to say _yes to everything that the doctor said; meaning: _I do hear you. I know what you're saying. I understand what you mean. I know she's dying. I know you've done all you can. _Yes! Yes! Yes!_

That was all he could manage because the doctor just kept on talking round and round this horrible, horrible situation. Of course, he understood; he'd been dreading it all his life. The fear and panic never (ever) seemed to leave his mind or his heart. He was 30 years old, and had carried this torturous burden ever since he could remember; and he remembered almost everything. He remembered ever hurt, every slight, every worry, every delusion … It was endless. Well, it had always seemed endless; apparently, the end was coming … and he still wasn't ready to face it.

Listening (still listening) to the doctor trying to alleviate his sense of failure; as Reid was trying to alleviate his own sense of failure; they were both wasting their time. They would never be free of their guilt, whether that was right or wrong … that was how it was to be.

A few minutes later, Hotch jerked when he heard Reid clear his throat and say, "How long do you think she has?"

Hotch watched and listened. After a few seconds passed Reid said, "Fine. Yes Doctor. I'll be there as soon as I can. I have a few things that I have to take care of on this end, since I don't know how long I'll be gone. Thank you, Doctor … good bye."

Reid disconnected the call, put his phone back into his pocket, raised both hands and covered his face as he took a couple of deep breaths; each time, exhaling slowly. Hotch kept watching Reid, wanting to be ready and attentive as soon as Reid was ready to address him.

Slowly, Reid removed his hands from his face, cleared his throat again, and looked out the windows of the SUV. Realizing that they were parked in Hotch's driveway, Reid frowned and said, "I thought you were dropping me off first. I really need to go home … now, Hotch!"

Hotch couldn't hide his surprised reaction to what Reid said, or his tone; as Reid sat there looking directly at him. Quickly, Hotch tried to think of _What Gideon would do? What Gideon would say?_ It didn't work because he _wasn't_ Gideon. He was nothing at all _like_ Gideon. He didn't have Gideon's innate sense of clarity (well, before he had burnt out). Hotch knew he had to say something, to do something, to take control of this situation … that's what Gideon would do for Reid. Gideon would not let Reid face this alone. Gideon would not let Reid be alone tonight, or even for a few days. That was definitely going to create a problem, more like a number of problems.

Sure, over the past couple of years he and Reid had grown closer in a semi-mentor relationship; but they were _nowhere_ near as in tune with each other as Gideon and Reid had been. Hotch was thinking as rapidly as he could … and then he sort of chuckled. It wasn't really a chuckle, nor was it a gasp. It was just a stupid sound that escaped his lips when he thought how slow his thinking is compared to Reid's high capacity processing of thoughts. It was stupid, but it served a purpose because it pulled Hotch out of his state of _word-less-ness_.

Reid's mouth dropped open in scorn when he heard Hotch chuckle. He wasn't sure it was a chuckle, but still … it seemed highly inappropriate given the circumstances. Reid was just about to get up on his high horse (which he seldom did … unless called for), when Hotch finally answered.

"Reid!" Hotch exclaimed and then took a long and slow breath before exhaling noisily, "I was trying to think quickly; I was trying to think what Gideon would say or do; I was getting nowhere; I was thinking how slow my brain is compared to yours … that wasn't a chuckle, Reid. It was a stupid sound that slipped out of me. There's nothing funny at all."

Once Reid's expression and body language showed that he completely understood about that stupid sound, Hotch continued and took charge, "I was going to drop you off at your place, but I know something bad is happening to your mom. I can't leave you alone at your place. I could never forgive myself if I did that. I didn't realize that I was driving here until just before I parked. That means something, Reid; and you know it, too. You need to stay here tonight. You need to clear your head a little because you … No! … _We _have a lot of things to go over in the morning."

Reid was not happy about being kidnapped (as he put it … _in his mind_) and he wanted to go home and be left alone with his sorrow and shame. He didn't want the team involved. He had never wanted the team to know such intimate details about his mom's life. He was just about to demand that Hotch take him home immediately.

Hotch raised his hand and said, "I'm not taking you home tonight. I'm not discussing that anymore. You're staying here tonight with me and Jack. You don't have to worry because Jack's asleep … you won't have to put on a happy face for him. Well, not until the morning … we'll both have to do some pretending … for Jack's sake. Now come on. It's late. We're both exhausted."

Hotch climbed out of the SUV, pulled his go-bag out of the trunk, and waited there for Reid to exit the car. He knew that Reid was pissed, so he gave him a few seconds to get out the SUV. Hotch was relaxing against the open tailgate when Reid finally cooperated. Neither of them spoke while Reid pulled out his go-bag and silently followed Hotch into the house.


End file.
